Raven's Random Drabblets
by Raven of the Shadows
Summary: 1) KBOW 2) Tom R. Jr. 3) Lockhart 4) Nearly Headless Nick; ArthurNarcissa 5) Scorpius M. 6) Lavender; Parvati 7) Lockhart
1. Regret

**Regret**

She is busy foiling with the plays of the opponent team's Chasers, when it happens. Luke, another Chaser of her team, shoots a goal, and the two beaters aim the bludgers at the Puddlemere Keeper at the same instant.

Forgetting her play, she stares in horror as the scene unfolds. The Keeper leaps to catch the quaffle, but is hit in head with one bludger and in the chest with the other. He falls, spiralling, to the ground, and she races in his direction. The referee calls it an unprovoked attack and gives the other team a penalty, but she doesn't care. She will kill her teammates if anything happens to Oliver.

She catches him a few feet above the ground; it is difficult, landing while balancing his unconscious form, but she manages. She gently lowers him to the ground, kneeling by her side, letting the healers do their work, her mind a whirlpool of memories.

" _Katie, will you marry me?"_

 _She pressed her lips together. "We've got the match starting in an hour, Oli."_

" _Yes. So?"_

" _So, we are on_ opposite _teams. And we can't go to the match with this weighing down on us."_

 _She sees the hurt in his face on the lack of an answer, but she stands her ground. "Talk to you after I win the cup, Wood," she says._

 _She turns on her heel and walks away, but not before she hears him say, "I love you so much, Katie, damn you! But I'm going to get the cup."_

A tear trickles down her cheek. "Don't you dare do something stupid, Oli, or I'm not going to marry you," she says. Her voice, which she intended to be threatening, comes out as a squeak.

She watches with apprehension as the Healers work, saying it will be too dangerous to even change his position, let alone take him to the stadium infirmary.

The Healers request her to go away. They say he is in a sensitive condition. Her heart thuds against her chest, tendrils of fear gripping her in an icy vine. She takes his hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "I love you, Oliver."

The wait is killing her, and when the Healers come, their dejected expression speak volumes. A cry of anguish tears from her lips. She feels as if her heart has been ripped apart. She follows the Healers to the where Oliver's body has been moved to. She falls to the ground next to him, sobs racking her body. Holding his rapidly cooling hand, she vows never to play the game that snatched the love of her life away again.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 439

 **Prompts used:**

From TGS Speed Drabble

• (Character) Katie Bell

From Chocolate Frog Card Club

• (Bronze) Flavius Belby — Incorporate an unprovoked attack into your story.


	2. His First Happy Christmas

**Summary:** Tom is fed up of people bullying him. What happens when he consciously tries to magick things up?

* * *

 **His First Happy Christmas**

Everything was once again covered in a sheet of white snow. Once again, Christmas was approaching. For a lot of people, this meant happiness, music, presents. For Tom, it meant even more misery.

He knew, like every year, his presents would be stolen away before he woke up. Like every year, others will enact the nativity play, sing carols, play games. Like every year, Tom Riddle would not be included.

Today, the older children were going to hold auditions for the play. The six-year-old knew that if they chose fairly, he would get a role. But they wouldn't. They never did.

He pushed the blankets off and stood up; others were still sleeping. Taking a quick shower while praying no one noticed he used hot water, he dressed himself in one of his two shirts, his only pair of pants, and a thin jacket which he had thankfully been given to keep warm. Shivering, he straggled out of the dorms and into the yard, and sat down by the huge rock. Sometimes snakes came out from underneath it—they were Tom's only friends—and no one dared to approach the rock.

They were stupid! Snakes never came out in winters. He waited for everyone to wake up. The older children would have breakfast first, and the other youngsters would claim the rest. If anything remained, he, the freak, could have it.

He hated this place for this reason. Mrs Cole thought the elder ones were responsible enough to manage the breakfast and other small activities. He sighed. At least she supervised lunch and dinner herself.

Soon, the dishes were empty, and Tom didn't get anything. Frederick, the oldest child in the orphanage, gathered everyone around and announced that they were going to choose actors for the play. Out of oblige, they called Tom for the auditions, and right then, his empty stomach growled.

Tom's cheeks reddened when everyone laughed. He clenched his fists and ran away.

.

The Christmas celebrations were going on, and the play was about to be presented. The actors climbed on the makeshift stage and took their positions. The play started, but Tom couldn't pay attention to it.

He scowled in the direction of the stage and dropped on to his knees. He crawled out of the place before anyone could notice him leaving.

The door to the building was locked.

Weird things—supernatural things—sometimes happened around him, so he decided to give it a go. Clutching the lock tightly in his hands, he willed it to open. It unlocked with a click.

A smile spread across his face. He walked inside and entered Frederick's room. Opening the older boy's cupboard in a similar way, Tom took the toys the older boy had stolen from him. Out of spite, he picked a few other things that caught his attention. For the first time in forever, a wide grin spread over Tom's face.

For the first time, he was happy on Christmas.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 495

 **Prompts used:**

From the Nativity Play

• The Camel: (scenario) Watching a child participate in the Nativity Play (300 minimum words)  
• Tom Riddle/Voldemort


	3. No Presents

**Summary:** Gilderoy Lockhart's Christmas at St Mungo's.

* * *

 **No Presents**

It is Christmas. From the windows of this room in this room of the Janus Thickey Ward of St Mungo's, you can see the thick layer of snow in the street outside. It is as cheerful as a room could be in a hospital.

The patient in this room is still sleeping when the Healer, Miriam Strout, a motherly woman dressed in green robes, enters. "Good morning, Gilderoy," she says, a warm smile on her face. "It is time to wake up."

The man buries his face in the pillow, his blond hair sticking out in various directions. "G'way!" he mumbles and tries to burrow himself into the pillow.

"Um hmm," the Healer says, smiling cheerfully. "Do you not know what day is today?"

The man hums something; it sounds like he is reciting the seven days of the week. "L'me sleep!"

"Merry Christmas, Gilderoy!"

At this, the patient, Gilderoy Lockhart, turns over and his blandly handsome face with blue eyes comes into view. The once bestseller writer throws the blanket off and jumps out of the bed clumsily, hitting his toe on leg of the bedside table.

"Oww!" He flops back on the bad and rubs his foot, then remembers it is Christmas. He looks around for his presents and frowns when there's nothing but a small box lying on the bedside table. "Where are my presents?" he asks the Healer.

The Healer gives him a sad smile and picks up the small box, which is given to all the patients who stay there on Christmas by the hospital. Gilderoy takes it and rips the packing off. Inside is a single chocolate frog. He quickly opens it and stuffs the chocolate in his mouth, making the Healer giggle. He turns the card over and scowls at the picture of Albus Dumbledore that comes into view. That man has too long hair, and isn't even handsome. Why don't they print his picture, instead?

Tossing the card on the bed, Gilderoy look up at the Healer. "Where are my other presents?"

"No more presents for you," the Healer says, shaking her head. She pities the man, even though she knows he's just paying for his own sins. She doesn't think anyone deserves a fate like this. She shakes a finger at him. "Perhaps you've been a naughty boy this year, so Santa didn't get you any more presents."

Gilderoy stares at her, open mouthed. Did she not no Santa isn't real. He isn't a kid, for Merlin's sake! "There's no such thing as Santa. And I should get presents! I always get heaps of presents from—" Gilderoy frowns when he can't remember who gives him presents. But someone—no, a lot of people—do. He is sure.

A small smile spreads on the Healer's face. If he remembers that much, perhaps not all hope is lost. "All right, Gilderoy. Now I'm going to go wake up others. Don't be naughty. Perhaps Santa will send someone to visit you."

Gilderoy grins. "They will take my autograph?"

The Healer smiles. "They will." She just hopes someone comes by to see the poor man.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 520

 **Prompts used:**

From The Nativity Play

• Roman Soldier 2: (scenario) Opening presents on Christmas morning (500 minimum words)  
• Gilderoy Lockhart


	4. Sir Nicholas' Troubles

**Warning:** M-rated

* * *

 **Sir Nicholas' Troubles**

Diary Entry no. seventy-seven thousand nine hundred and sixty-one

Dearest Diary

Sometimes I hate being a ghost. At least with a solid body I wouldn't have been wall-crashing scenes.

Yes, it happened again. I walked into a hot, full-blown snog-and-shag session, and I couldn't even offer to join! And who would have believed that Arthur Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy—no, Black—will be spending their time after teaching the students in this way.

In a broom closet, no less!

Of course, the door was locked to keep the students out, but a simple lock isn't enough to keep knights like me out, is it? I, the innocent ghost of Gryffindor house, was simply taking a stroll in the castle. Then, my head toppled to the side, and I was falling through the wall. And there they were. In their naked glory, no less!

Back to the couple. Who would have even thought that the Muggle Studies Professor and the Defence Professor were together! I reckon Arthur has finally come out of the effects of Molly's love potions.

Uh-oh… of course I didn't know anything about Molly giving love potions now, did I? It isn't like I saw her brewing them in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when I was—let's just say the ghost girl has that name for a reason and leave it at that.

But, I didn't know anything about Molly's love potions on Arthur, or I, the most sincere House ghost, would have informed the victim and the Head of the House. It isn't like I enjoy these things just because I have lived a rather boring life for over five hundred years now. I just know about the potions because… the Weasley girl told me! Yes, that is a perfectly fine excuse… the true reason, I mean.

I think Peeves is somewhere nearby. It won't do for him to know that I write a diary, would it? Just like when he overheard I wear pink Y-fronts—it was just one time, I swear—he shouted about it at the top of his lungs, and I was the laughing stock for months.

What? With hundreds of ghosts in the world, we do have a ghost market. Honestly, don't people _think_? It is rather given that I haven't been wearing same clothing for five hundred years. And if there was no ghost market, what would I be writing with? The feather from my hat dipped in the blood from the wedge in my neck? On the inside of my clothes? (Fine, FINE! I _did_ do that, but that was four hundred sixty-nine years back.)

Peeves is here!

Sir Nicholas

* * *

 **Word Count:** 434

 **Prompts used:**

From Dear Diary… (game)

• Character: Nearly Headless Nick  
• Pairing: Narcissa/Arthur  
• Falling


	5. But he's a Malfoy

**But he's a Malfoy**

'Scorpius _Malfoy_.' The captain seemed to taste his name on her lips. "Well, I guess letting you try out can't cause too many troubles. You're an ickle firstie, after all."

A half-an-hour and three-times-catching-the-snitch later, it was clear that the "ickle firstie" was the best seeker of the lot. The loudest protests came from the beaters.

'Gwen, we _can't_ possibly have him on the team,' said James, kicking the dirt around. He would have fell to the ground ass-first after an especially hard kick had Fred not caught him.

'Yeah. First a Malfoy in _Gryffindor_ ,' said the redhead, dusting James' robes a bit too hard.

'If that wasn't bad enough, he wants to play Quidditch on the team?' said James. All the while, the blond first-year in question stood in silence, a pink tinge on his cheeks. Still, he stared at the team with hard eyes, as if determined that he won't go down without a fight.

'For all we know,' Fred continued, 'he could be a snake in lion's skin—'

'Wasn't it a _sheep_ in Lion's skin, Freddie?'

Fred smacked James on the head. 'Well you're a bloody donkey.' Turning to the team, he continued, 'Well, for all we know, he could be a Slytherin insider. I bet you James' undies he'll turn against us in the match.'

'Yeah, he'll never catch the Snitch.' Then, as if catching up to Fred's statement, James turned to his cousin and elbowed him in the ribs.

'Will you two be serious for a minute?' the captain asked, shooting them a glare.

'Why, Miss Wood, serious is my middle name. No, wait, that's Sirius.' The team, Fred included, groaned at the obviously overused joke. Scorpius couldn't help a small smile, which disappeared when James turned to glower at him.

'James, Fred, stop,' said Kara, one of the chasers and a third year. 'We need to finalise the team. Then you two can yap all you want to.'

Astonishingly, the two boys sobered up immediately; though that might have something to do with the exquisite beauty Kara possessed, which seemed to do wonders on the whole male population at Hogwarts.

'I think he should be the seeker,' said Wilson, the keeper. He was a man of few words, but his words always carried weight. Even Gwen respected his views. 'He's the best we have, and since when did who a player's father is affect who makes the team?'

'Right,' said Gwen. 'I was just wondering why we're even having this conversation.' She glared at James and Fred. 'Malfoy, practice at five in the morn tomorrow. Miss it and I'll make sure you never ride a broom again.' Then, as an afterthought, she added, 'Kara, see to it that these two don't do anything.'

James and Fred groaned. Besides being a brilliant male-manipulator, the blue-eyed chaser had an uncanny ability to always spot and stop the duo's pranks, though she didn't do the latter most of the times. 'Kara, can't we—' James tried to do that "doe-eye" thing which always worked on his father, but Kara smirked at him.

'No, you won't do anything.'

James sighed. 'Okay, we won't.' Then, hoisting his broom on his shoulder, he followed Fred who was already on the move. A few steps later, he called out to Scorpius over his shoulder. 'I don't trust you, _Malfoy_ , whatever the others say. I'll be watching you.'

'Me too,' Fred said, turning and walking backwards. He winked at Kara before sprinting away.

o§o

* * *

 **Word Count:** 582

 **Prompts used:**

From Hogwarts Assignment #7

• Write about someone who is unfairly being deemed untrustworthy.


	6. Crushed

_Written for TGS Gobstones Championship for the prompt: Write about a character who is crushing on a celebrity. Submission from Mahoutokoro, House Mizu. W.C. 634._

* * *

 **Crushed**

Lavender is the most beautiful fourth-year and one of the prettiest girls in the school and she knows it. So when the Yule ball is announced and she turns a dozen boys down, no one makes much of it because they know she can have any boy she wants who isn't in a steady relationship.

But when Justin Finch-Fletchley follows her group around all day to get her alone, and finally, just before dinner, manages to ask for a minute alone outside the Great Hall and she outright refused, Parvati couldn't help herself. She turns to face her best friend and asks her what her deal was? Because even though Justin can be a bit naive, he's considered quite the catch in their year—second only to Draco Malfoy, but who self-respecting Gryffindor is going to date a Slytherin anyway—Parvati can't figure out the reason why Lavender didn't even give him a chance to ask her to the ball.

Her reply is not what Parvati expects. Oh, she knows Lavender is very beautiful, but one just doesn't set their hopes on Viktor Krum, the star seeker, and believe they'll get to hang on to the celebrity's arm at the ball.

Parvati tries, desperately tries, to talk her out of it, but Lavender doesn't budge. She is too sure of herself, and Parvati can't bear to tell the blonde that Viktor isn't looking at _her_ when he glances at the Gryffindor table each day. That Parvati is sure he doesn't hear Lavender giggling and doesn't even glance at what she's trying to show him she has to offer.

And Parvati knows she should have done something when Lavender comes in the dorm, tears streaking down her cheeks, and promptly buries her face in Parvati's shoulder with sobs wracking her body. Parvati feels as if she's failed her friend, but she vows to be there for Lavender now. So she just runs her fingers through the blonde's hair, not complaining once that she's ruining her favourite casual robes as Lavender laments on how Viktor told her he already has a date and then told her to fuck off and that now she'll have no one to go to the ball to because she's already told everyone no.

Parvati stands strong for her friend when Lavender seems all crushed, as if all the confidence has seeped out of the blonde girl. She wakes Lavender up, drags her to the showers, puts makeup on her face and dresses her the best she can so that no one knows something's wrong. Because they'll judge. Because they'll say Lavender is making a big deal out of nothing—they don't know how insecure the blonde girl is behind the happy mask she wears.

So the two friends keep going, one shouldering the other's weight.

The next day, when Seamus asks Parvati to escort her to the ball, she lies, saying she already has a date but leans close to his ear and says Lavender's still available. And when the boy asks the blonde, Lavender smiles for the first time in days and Parvati knows she won't regret it even if she doesn't get a date herself.

Then it happens. That very evening, Harry _freaking_ Potter, the fourth Triwizard Champion asks her to go out with him and of course she agrees. When he asks if Lavender is available for Ron and they say she's not and they burst into giggles, Parvati can see Lavenger is faking it.

Once in the dorm, Lavender shouts at Parvati for turning Seamus over to her just because _she_ wanted Lavender out of the way to snag the raven-haired celebrity. The blonde rushes to the bathroom, banging the door on the way, and Parvati falls to her knees, sobbing, but there is no one to comfort her.


	7. The Fallen Robe

_Written for TGS Gobstones Championship for the prompt:_ Write about Gilderoy Lockhart shopping at Madame Malkins. _Write about Gilderoy Lockhart shopping at Madame Malkins. Submission from Mahoutokoro, House Mizu. W.C. 515._

 **A/N:** Writing this in narrative POV because I just can't fathom the idea of writing from the inside of Gilderoy Lockhart's head.

* * *

 **The Fallen Robe**

Gilderoy walks down the Diagon Alley, dressed in lilac robes, winking at witches who seem to swoon at the sight of him. Walking up to Madame Malkin's, he pauses at the window to check his hair in the reflection for a minute. Seemingly satisfied, he opens the door and walks into the shop.

He bows to the owner, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. The act elicits a giggle from the blushing woman and a smile makes its way to Gilderoy's lips, showing his sparkling white teeth.

"How are you, my dear Madame," he asks, and the shop-owner's blush deepens.

"I-I'm fine Mr Lockhart. H-how can I help y-you?"

Gilderoy laughs again, putting his arm around the woman's shoulder, and winks at her. "Madame Malkin, this humble be happy to wear whatever you robe him in as long as long as it has a self-ironing and self-cleaning charm."

The woman laughs breathily, shaking her head. "Of course, Mr Lockhart."

Gilderoy tuts. "I told you to call me Gilderoy, my dear woman."

"O-okay, Gi-Gilderoy."

She leads him inside the shop and next to a rack, taking out formal robes of different one by one and matching them with his skin. All the while, Gilderoy peaks over her shoulder, trying to look at his reflection in the mirror on the other side of the shop, making various poses with an all-white smile pasted to his lips.

"What do you think of this one, Mr Loc—Gilderoy?" Madam Malkin has to call his name twice before she catches the man's attention because he's so lost staring at himself.

"Hmm?" he asks and she shows him the robe, repeating herself. "Well, no." The shop-owner's face falls but Gilderoy doesn't notice—he's too busy selecting himself a robe. He chooses a vibrant green one and slips into it. Giving an extravagant twirl, he turns to the woman and strikes a pose. "How do I look?"

Madam Malkin smiles at Gilderoy and lavishes him with compliments, her smile widening when the man leans forward to kiss her cheek and thanks her for selecting the robe. She doesn't seem to remember that this was not her pick.

"Now for the measuring part," she says, turning to the man. As they turn to walk back to the front, a burgundy robe attaches to the ring on Madam Malkin's left hand and drags along before falling to the ground with a soft sound.

Gilderoy looks over his shoulder, saying, "No problem, I'll put it back," but as he takes out his wand, the shop-owner shakes her head wildly, looking slightly crazed. Perhaps she's remembering the last time Gilderoy tried to help. It ended up with all the robes flying out of their shelves and she had to close the shop for an hour to set everything back.

"It's all right," she says, quickly leaning down to pick up the fallen garment. With a wave of her wand, it's folded itself and is back in the shelf, and even as Gilderoy says he could have done it, she breathes an audible sigh of relief.


	8. Escape

**Escape**

Sirius stared at Buckbeak as the hippogriff lay, relaxed, in the place the man had just cleaned up. "Do you also think that I'm confusing Harry with P—James?" When the hippogriff didn't reply and continued to stare back, his beady eyes unblinking, Sirius let out a long sigh and let his head fall back to the wall he was sitting against. The huge hairbrush he had used to groom the beast's wings fell from his lap, the sound echoing through the room.

He thought back to the last fight he had with Molly. It had once again been on how he wasn't being a responsible parent-figure. Sirius wouldn't admit it to her, but her statements held some merit.

Maybe he was just a 21-year-old who had been placed in a timeless torture cell for thirteen years of something which couldn't be called life.

He wouldn't say this either, but personality wise, she reminded him a lot of Lily. Dangerously smart, immensely powerful, insanely opinionated Lily. Oh, what would he not give up to have them both back.

Or — he mused, a dangerous thought entering his mind — get to be with them.

He stood up and made his way down the staircase, the boards creaking under his feet. He caught sight of Kreacher — the elf had a malicious grin on his face — and Sirius wondered what in the name of Merlin was that blasted creature up to now.

* * *

"Sirius, Dumbledore said you should stay here."

The man growled at his best friend. "Like the hell I would. That's my godson in danger, Remus. I don't care what Dumbledore says."

The werewolf sighed in recognition. Sirius knew his friend knew him well enough to know Sirius wouldn't give in this time.

He gripped tight the rope the other members of the Order were holding. Dumbledore had said it would take them all to the lowest level of the Ministry — one of the Unspeakables had been that much of a help, apparently — and Sirius really hoped it would work.

Moody pointed his wand at the rope and muttered, "Portus."

There was the navel-pull sensation, and after a little dash, Sirius found himself in the middle of a fight. He grinned. This was what he had been looking for all those months he had been holed up in that grim house. He didn't hesitate a moment to jump straight in.

Rest of it was a blur as he shielded Prongs a few times or duelled a masked Death Eater alongside Moony once. He was just trying to protect his fri — his _godson_! Sirius was fighting to protect Harry.

He fought back with dual vigour after that realisation.

He didn't remember much of what was happening, but a while later, he was facing Bellatrix. His mind was supplying his tongue with taunts to respond to her comments, and — and he could see James looking at him, watching him duel. Not James, Harry.

Sirius moved in a small circle, and when the next spell left Bellatrix's wand, he didn't bother deflecting it. Try as he might to convince himself, he knew as he fell through the veil that he had positioned himself to be in front of, he knew he was wanted this. He let a last smile cross his lips as he let his own self escape into oblivion.

* * *

 **Word Count:** 563

 **Prompts used:**

Written for The Houses Competition (G, Drabble)

• Hairbrush [Object]


End file.
